


Celebrations

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, no beta we keep dying like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: Elizabeth celebrates her first big spa sale.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 21
Kudos: 201





	Celebrations

**Author's Note:**

> I've made an executive decision in this fic that Rio's bar is called Lucky's - 
> 
> Also, I wrote this in 12 hours after watching last nights 'finale' which has convinced me of three things:  
> 1\. They will bang again - season 4 will be them working side by side, focusing on an external threat.  
> 2\. Rio's in love with her - did you hear his clown shoes squeal after he said NEXT TIME EMPTY THE CLIP cos I did.  
> 3\. She will leave Dean, if not physically, then emotionally, and mentally - the more she works with and lives in Rio's world the more she'll come to see what Dean can never give her.

They have a really good month. A  _ really _ good month. Beth inks a deal with a brand new hotel development downtown and sells more spa’s in one day than they have all quarter. It depletes their inventory, she and the girls print every day for a week to make enough money to replace their stock. 

Beth floats on air for a few days after, proud. 

They’d toasted with a bottle of champagne and some plastic flutes on the empty showroom that evening after closing. It makes her warm thinking about it, Annie’s bright smile and Ruby’s free laugh. For the first time in a long time, she feels back in the groove, in step with the girl and  _ him _ .

It’s late Friday night when she decides champagne in plastic flutes just isn’t enough. So she puts on a dress, red lipstick, and a spritz of her most expensive perfume. She calls an uber and slips out into the night.

It’s busy at Lucky’s, always, but tonight especially. The big guy at the door checking ID’s gives her a nod, lets her slip the line and holds the door for her. She knows his name but doesn’t make an effort to recall it, the only thing on her mind is getting inside. She’d downed two fingers of bourbon before leaving the house, and feels her cheeks heat with that familiar bourbon buzz. 

It takes her a moment to get to the bar, she has to squeeze between a friendly crowd of men who fall silent when she walks through. She doesn’t care though, because she’d finally found who she was looking for. 

He’s in the same spot he always is, for some reason, always favoring the one stool at the corner of the bar. He’s alone, forearms on the bar, fingers cradling a glass of gin. She isn’t close enough to see the drink but she knows its gin, she’s willing to bet a lot of money on it. 

He must be able to feel her eyes on him because he turns and catches sight of her before she’s at his side. His head tilts slightly in her direction as he takes her in, half-lidded eyes drop down her body. It gives her a rush she can’t put words to. 

She slides in next to him without a word, the bartender nods her way. She peers at the glass in his palm. 

_ Gin _ .

His breath is shallow, slow, she wonders how long he’s been here tonight. 

“Celebrating?” he asks, still looking straight ahead.

The bartender, Joe, she thinks, slides a bourbon in-front of her. She smiles at him before she answers.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, takes a sip.

“You should be,” he nods, turns his head and looks at her. “You made us both a lot of money this week.”

Her stomach flutters at his praise, and she hates herself a little for the power he has over her. They hold each other gaze for a moment, she’s not sure for how long. 

“So, what is it that you want?” He asks, breaking their eye contact.

She stutters, opens her mouth to snap back at him but pauses.

“Why do you think I want something?” 

He chuckles quietly to himself, turns his attention back to her.

“You come into my bar, looking like  _ that _ , you want something.”

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to her cleavage, not that he attempts to hide it. Her dress is a simple wrap, solid black, tied at the back. It isn’t cut too low, but he doesn’t look like he needs much to remember exactly what’s underneath. His mouth drops open the tiniest amount and she can’t look away from that plump bottom lip.

“Looking like what?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, he eyes the little bit of leg that’s escaped the high slit of her dress. 

“You know what you look like,” he rasps. When he looks up at her and catches her expression he shakes his head. “Or is car man blind, deaf  _ and _ stupid?”

She looks to her drink, swirls the bourbon in her glass and takes a sip. 

“I think Dean prefers a different  _ spa package  _ if you get my drift.” 

That’s the first time she’s admitted that factoid to herself, let alone out loud to another person. A year ago that thought would have destroyed her but now she doesn’t even blink an eye.

He mutters to himself in Spanish, she can only make out the word  _ pendejo _ . This is the second time she’d heard him speak Spanish. Her mind is fuzzy from the alcohol, but she stores that thought in the back of her brain to ponder later. 

A moment of quiet passes between them before he speaks again.

“You try out any of those spas yet?”

She snorts. 

“No.”

“Shame, I’m looking to purchase but I need a reference and I hear you’re a pro.”

Oh god, he’s  _ flirting. _

She’s warm all over, her cheeks a little numb from the liquor, body relaxed. 

“Well, you’re in luck, we’re about to get a fresh shipment of the newest models. A little on the pricey side but worth it.” 

His lips are tugging in a small smirk but his eyes are soft.

“You tryina upsell me, Elizabeth?” 

She purses her lips, tries to keep a straight face as she continues her faux pitch. 

“Orbit jets, dream lighting, and a  _ very _ low monthly operation cost.”

He hums, shakes his head.

“Pretty sure those new models ain’t nothing more than pretty lights and plastic. I’m looking for something a little more durable. Something I can sink into after a long day.”

Her eyes flutter, he’s got her. 

He swallows, the skin of his neck taut across his Adam’s apple. The tattoo ripples.

He’s so close she thinks she can feel the puff of air against her arm every time he exhales. Their heads are bowed in, and she considers how intimate they must look like from the outside. 

His hand comes up and he pulls a curl between his fingers, twists it once before he lets it go.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he says. It takes her a moment to process his words before he's speaking again. “And then I’m gonna take you upstairs and peel that dress off.”

She grabs the edge of the bar, squeezes her thighs together. He’s staring at her mouth, eyes half-closed, mouth open. 

“If that doesn’t sound like what you came for I suggest you leave, now.” 

He gives her a moment but he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t give her any more space. Her breath is coming out in sharp, quick hits now. She waits for him to lean in and capture her mouth but it never comes. 

Instead, he slides off the stool, stands up and towers over her. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches into the back of his pants and pulls his wallet out. He fingers the bills blindly and tosses a few on the bar. 

“Get up, Elizabeth.” 

She does. 

Her knees shake, then she feels a warm hand on her lower back. His pinkie rests on the curve of her buttock. 

She burns.

He guides her forwards, the palm at her back glides to her hip then she feels his chest flush against her back. 

He escorts her towards the back of the bar, the opposite way of the exit. She thinks he’s leading her to the bathroom, but when they slip into the hallway he pulls her in the opposite direction of the restrooms. There’s a small staircase at the bottom and before they ascend he spins her by the hip and pushes her up the wall.

“Last chance,” he says, presses his chest into hers.

She answers with a moan, pushes back into him.

A large hand slips around the base of her head, he tilts her head back and covers her mouth with his own. 

The kiss is open-mouthed and filthy. He sucks her bottom lip, lets it go with a soft pop. 

Then she’s climbing a narrow staircase, thankful for the hands at her hips, steadying her. When they reach the top he guides her down another hallway until she’s in an office.

His office - she quickly realizes, sobering up as her eyes take everything in. It’s a large space, exposed brick with a pool table at one end, a leather couch, and a large wooden desk. She imagines him sitting at his desk, forearms on the table. She imagines herself spread open on it.

She hears him laugh in her ear, understanding what she’s thinking as she stares at the desk, dazed.

“Desk or couch?” he asks. He kisses her neck, noses at her hair. 

She hums, realizing he’s talking but not hearing a word.

He doesn’t repeat himself, instead, he pulls the tie of the dress from her back and lets it unravel. It falls softly, and he turns her around, letting the material slack in the front. He hooks one finger on the fabric between her breasts and tugs lightly. It gives easily, unwrapping until it just hangs on her shoulders.

She’s wearing lace. 

“Elizabeth,” he murmurs, runs a knuckle up her belly until he reaches a breast. He palms her, thumb pushing on the hard nub. “Did you wear this for me, hmm? Did you think about me when you picked it out tonight?”

_ Fuck _ .

She can’t handle his voice, not when it gets that low and gravely, so she kisses him; wraps her arms around his neck, and stretches up on her tiptoes. He responds, opens his mouth against hers, breathes her in. They kiss for a moment, he gets the dress off completely, drops it in the middle of the room. He settles his hands on her ass, pulls out of the kiss for breath, looks at her then he squeezes both cheeks. 

Her eyes flutter open when she says his name. It comes out so soft that he has to dip his head and give her a kiss, then another, never lingering too long but pecking at her mouth.

Her feet lose the ground for a brief moment. With a few steps, he lays her out on the large, leather couch. He pulls his shirt off quickly, then he kneels on the ground in front of her.

His eyes are so dark, and they keep jumping from her face down to her panties. The visual of him kneeling between her spread knees is too much for her, she lets out a strangled moan. 

He palms a thigh, leans in and rubs his beard across it. Her stomach muscles clench, the skin pinks and he kisses it, once, then again. 

“Take your bra off,” he demands. She does, lets it fall down on the couch as he slips her panties off. Then she’s naked, spread on his couch, pink all over.

He rocks back on his heels, lets himself look. Rosy cheeks, smeared lipstick. Full, heavy breasts. Wide hips leading to a small patch of hair and a wet center.

“Rio,” she complains, uncomfortable at his gaze.

He shakes his head, slips his hands beneath her knees, and tugs a little.

“I’m never gonna get anything done in this office ever again.”

Leaning in he noses at the patch of hair at her juncture and gives her a lick. She lifts her head forward, wants to see him, wants to commit this to her memory forever. Her breath hitches when he dips his tongue inside of her, just once, then he licks at her entrance again. He does this for a minute, licking and kissing, tasting her. 

She says his name again, whines it. That gets his attention. He gives her one more kiss before he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. His tongue finds the bundle of nerves and he works it until she’s gasping and mewling. She can’t help herself and she grinds down against his mouth, slowly at first. She knows he’s smiling, she can see it pulling at his eyes but she doesn’t care. She rides his mouth until she’s folded in half, coming with a sob.

He kisses up her belly, up the valley between her breasts until she’s sitting up straight and they’re face to face.

“Good?” he asks against her mouth and she smiles lazily. 

She hums noncommittedly, riding the post-orgasm high.

He slips out of his jeans, pushes them down with his boxers before he slides one knee on the couch.

He towers over her, leans down to kiss her once before she feels the head of his cock at her entrance. He rubs himself against her for a few strokes, coats himself in her. Then he taps his cock on her clit and she jumps. 

He laughs out a  _ sorry _ against her mouth. 

He’s not. 

“Sensitive,” he says and then he slips inside.

Her mouth falls open, eyes roll into the back of her head. He pants against her mouth, grunts softly every time he bottoms out. After a few moments of the slow torture, she slides her hand around his neck, digs her nails into his scalp. 

“Faster, p-please,” she says against his mouth.

He sucks her top lip, slips his tongue into her mouth, and shifts her knees up. When she slides all the way down with her knees at her ears he breaks the kiss.

“Grab your knees.”   


She does as he asks, without a second thought. Her fingers wrap underneath her knees and she leans her head back against the couch. 

The visual is filthy, in the best way. She’s panting, legs spread, body bent in half. She’s going to regret this tomorrow, but that thought flies out of her head when he enters her again. He’s got his knees on either side of her, the balls of his feet firmly planted on the ground.

The first thrust of his hips tears a noise out of her she doesn’t recognize. Her entire body shakes with the effort. Then he does it again, and again. When her grip slips he runs both palms up her thighs until his hands are covering her own. He pushes down on her legs, bends her in half, and thrusts deeper. 

She can hear herself sobbing, begging him not to stop. Drops of sweat fall from his temple to her chest, running between her breasts, pooling at her belly where she’s bent in half. She’s gonna have bruises on her legs tomorrow, she knows. 

She can hear herself  _ don’t stop dont stop dont stop _

The fire in her belly spreads to her toes, up her spine. Every muscle in her body clenches, then she’s coming. She screams.

He noses into her hair, pants against her ear but doesn’t slow down. 

“Wanna come in you,” he groans into her ear. 

Her body shakes, she’s not sure if from the aftershocks or his thrusts. She pulls her hands free from his grip, slides her hands up his back, slips her fingers through his short-cropped hair, and scratches at his scalp.

His hips waver, he thursts one last time, trying to bury himself as deep inside of her as possible. He lets out a whimper as he comes, like he’s in pain, body trembling. When his breathing slows, he pulls out of her shoulder. Brings her knees down, slowly.

“You okay?” he asks. Brings her legs down to the couch, slips out of her but hovers on top of her.

She nods, blinking a few times. Her eyes burn from sweat.

A laugh bubbles out of her, her hand flies to her mouth.

He smirks, riding the endorphin high.  “Yeah, you alright.” 

When he stands up he slips his pants on, collects her clothes from the floor, and looks back at her. She’s got her panties on, one hand wrapped around her breasts, unable to hide much. Her mouth still pink and swollen, and he wants nothing more than to kiss her again.

He shakes his head to get the thought out, gives her her dress back, and points her to the small bathroom in the corner. She ducks her head, and with a  _ thank you _ pads over to the bathroom. He watches her the whole time, commits that pale, round ass to memory until it’s hidden by the dress. When she finally walks into the bathroom, she catches his stare as she closes the door, pausing briefly to take him in. 

After a few moments, she comes out fully dressed, hair pinned back and lipstick gone. 

He’s leaning on the large desk, dressed, looking at his phone. Picking up her purse, she realizes she has to walk by him to her downstairs. 

There’s an uneasy, awkward feeling in the air.

He grabs her wrist as she walks up to him, straightens off the desk, and kisses her. It’s deep and steady, his tongue licking into her mouth. When he pulls away, he rubs a thumb across the bottom lip, collecting the moisture from his mouth.

“You know where you can find me, right.” 

It's not a question. It’s an open invitation, one he’d extended before and was doing again. Whenever, whatever she wanted. 

She nods, scared what her voice would sound like if she tried to use it right now.

“I’ll let you know when the new tubs get in, maybe you can come sample a few lines.” She tries to keep a serious face but she’s still drunk on him, and alcohol. 

She doesn’t wait for his response, she turns for the staircase and leaves him staring after her. 


End file.
